


Remake the Impossible

by DatOneNikki



Series: The Possibility Series [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underverse (Undertale), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, I may update the tags and characters as I go, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DatOneNikki/pseuds/DatOneNikki
Summary: After the unfortunate events of the Author deciding that it was fun to play God and then leaving our protagonists' relationship in shambles, it seems that nothing can be done anymore. Not even the Author could possibly help them now......Or could she?...If the help is needed, that is...
Relationships: Error/Ink, Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: The Possibility Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820626
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. w̷̛̯͓̣̐̉̔̀͗̿͘̚͠h̴̡̹̜̜̲̯̣͇͒̓̅̉ą̸̤̎ẗ̷̲̠̰̪͙̩̖̙̣̏̂̉

White.  
Or black.  
Or beige.

Whatever colour you've set for the story view of your Wattpad account.

Or maybe you're on ao3, then I have no idea how that works-

That's the only thing you can see.

And my words.

You can see them too, right?

Please tell me you can or this entire thing will be literally pointless.  
I'll just assume you can for now.

Basically I... Feel bad. You guys... Expected more from the first story.  
And I feel like I didn't deliver.  
Hell, I think the guilt has been giving me constant writer's block for like, a month now. I want to move on.

But I can't.

I love the ship too, guys. And I basically... Made a huge dick move by ending the story like I did.

I'm not as... Cruel as I made myself be in the first story, I think.  
I do love angst but... I think that was too much.

And I'm gonna make it right.

I'm gonna Remake the Impossible.

Without using the OVERWRITE button.  
It nearly used up all my power last time anyway...

Actually...  
Maybe one last time...  
Yes.

I'll use it one last time.  
But not on them.

On myself.

I'll use it to insert myself in the story.  
In a way at least.  
I don't have enough power yet to fully do so.  
I'll be in the Void.  
Not Anti-Void.  
The VOID. 

I'll be able to interact with the Multiverse in a very... Limited way...  
But I'll be able to at least start what I had in mind.  
And write this.

...

Let's do this.

XxXxX  
OVERWRITING  
XxXxX


	2. 🎨

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Artist

Ink came back to the Doodle Sphere, clutching his non-existent stomach as he laughed, still not over what happened moments prior.

Error's reactions really were priceless sometimes, he had to admit- the glitching skeleton seriously thought that whatever he was thinking... Was possible. With him. Ink. The soulless bastard of a skeleton.

What a joke.

The Artist just couldn't keep his laughter in, honestly...  
Maybe he'd taken too much yellow? 

Ink checked his vial sash instantly, only to realize that each vial that he'd used before going out to see Error was equally emptied to a certain point. The guardian squinted his eye sockets at that, chuckling.

He really was that soulless, huh...

As the skeleton kept playing with the vials in his hands, he barely noticed the familiar feeling of an Overwrite happening everywhere, but at the same time- nowhere.

That was strange to him.

"Huh... She said that she didn't have any more power for that..." the Artist muttered to himself before snorting and shaking his head. "What a liar..."

He suddenly felt something trickle down his cheeks, immediately going to wipe at whatever it was with his gloved hand. As he looked at it, he saw a smear of black ink on the fabric, right where he used it to wipe his face.

He was... Crying?

Ink blinked in confusion.  
He wasn't even feeling sad, why in the world would he cry?

He touched that certain spot on his chest subconsciously, still not feeling anything...  
Why was he crying?  
The Artist growled softly.

"Hey, this isn't funny!" the skeleton called out into the Doodle Sphere. "Come out already and just tell me what sick idea you got all of a sudden again-" Ink was about to say a name... But he couldn't.

He couldn't remember.

...

Who was she anyway? He had a feeling that it was someone important... Someone not too... Good...  
But he just couldn't remember who...   
He knows what that person did... But who were they? WHAT were they?

WHERE ARE THEY?

...

What was he doing a few minutes ago again?  
The skeleton clutched his skull, inky black tears still streaming down his face for no actual reason.

And then, in pure confusion and frustration that he somehow managed to muster up-  
He screamed.


	3. 🖤

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Destroyer

Dust.  
Shreds of fabric.  
Wool, cotton, buttons...

That's all he could see.

The sound of blue threads tearing through multiple tiny bodies of puppets hanging from the very same strings at the very top of the Anti-Void.

That's all there was to hear.

For a few hours.

When the glitching skeleton was finally done with his rampage all over the Anti-Void, he collapsed onto whatever remained of his beanbag that unfortunately was caught up in his outburst.

Not like it was his fault.  
It was all that soulless bastard's fault.

How dare he do this...  
How dare he play with his feelings.

The idiot seemed to know everything in the very end of that disaster, he was probably working with her from the very start...  
P l a y i n g with his heart strings.

Error groaned loudly, covering his face with his hands. His body was swarmed with glitches, which seem to have only intensified during the past few hours.  
Destruction always calmed his glitching...  
So why didn't it work now.

The glitches sizzling on his bones suddenly buzzed with newfound intensity as the feeling of an Overwrite happening everywhere and nowhere at the same time spread out through the Multiverse. The skeleton sat up abruptly at that, strings already hanging off of his cheeks and his hands flying up to cradle them, weaving them swiftly around his fingers.

"AlrIgHt... WhErE tHE FUcK aRe YoU- You... UhHh.." Error got up, growling at nothingness at first, before slowly realizing something.

Who the hell was he thinking about?  
Who was she? Where was she?  
Was she even a she?  
What were they? Where were they?

And what did that Artist bastard say to him again?...

His strings slowly disappeared, glitches swarming around his entire body again, mostly focusing on his eyes, causing his vision to be obscured.

And just like that, out of pure confusion...  
Error wordlessly crashed.


	4. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consequences everywhere.  
> Starting with there.

D R E A M S W A P, X-7-X

The Assasin for hire sputtered out some sort of nonesense consisting of gibberish, weird sounds and actual fragments of words before he recomposed himself and stared ahead of himself. And then at the spot beside himself, where the person he'd rather not be seen with, in front of Lord Dream, stood.

Ink shrieked, taking out his paintbrush and immediately pointing it at Error, its bristles straightening out and taking the form of a spear blade. His... Partner instantly played along, pulling strings from his eye sockets and glaring at him.

"Drea- BOSS! I don't know what happened but- I didn't come to meet with him behind your back!" the assasin exclaimed, not even realizing what happened moments prior.

Lord Dream stared at the pair credulously, confused about their sudden change of demanour... And aura.

"YeAh, I wOuLdn'T eVeN DrEaM oF mEeTinG uP wiTh thIs JuStiCe REigNs scUm!" the glitching skeleton shouted, making Ink flinch gently. He shot him a quick apologetic look before hardening his gaze yet again.  
The winged skeleton stepped closer to them.

"You two... Don't remember how you got to this point, do you?..." Dream deadpanned, eyeing them.  
They shook their head no, sheepishly, making him sigh.  
"Well, I'm still aware of your thing together, though, so it doesn't matter... Guards, cease them and throw them in the dungeon. And take away Ink's paints and any kind of weapon he may have hidden on him."

His soldiers instantly obeyed him, grabbing the protesting couple and dragging them away, through the bushes.  
Lord Dream stared ahead of himself for a few more moments, recomposing himself. Then he turned away, only to yelp as he suddenly stood face to face with someone he'd rather not see right now or anytime at all- Blue. The blue clad skeleton shot him a smirk.

"Hi Dream!~" he purred, chuckling afterwards, making the said skeleton squint at him.

"Did... Did you do anything to these two?" the winged one asked slowly. "Did you learn brainwashing?... Or... Something?"

He got a solemn shake of a head as an answer.  
Blue actually looked... Genuinely serious for once, when he was given the question.

"Sadly, no. I don't have the ability to do so..." Blue spoke. "... You know..."

"There's something very wrong here." the two spoke in unison.

D U S T V E R S E, X-8-X

The former Destroyer watched in horror as his enemy dusted himself in front of his very eyes. He couldn't believe it- after all this time...  
Their battles back in the day, their current battles...

He was gone. Dead.

The former Guardian's dust was slowly being blown away by the soft wind blowing through the area.  
And he could only watch.

"WhAt tHe FucK..." he muttered out in pure shock and confusion.

V A M P I R E V E R S E, X-9-X 

Fallacy stared at the mortal pinned underneath him, confusion dawning all over him as he realized that they were no longer in the woods.  
He abruptly sat up, not minding the noises of confusion from the other skeleton.

They were in his castle... But how?

He looked at the mortal in confusion.

"Encre? Weren't we running from the hunters just a moment ago?" he blinked, slowly getting off, bowing down and offering a hand to the Painter, who gladly took it and got up as well.

"I-I think so? How are we back here?" the shorter skeleton spoke, looking around in confusion, barely seeing anything, but still recognising the familiar sound of the wooden floor squeaking underneath their combined weight.

"I don't know... But apparently Suave and Jasper are still not back..."

"Fallacy, I'm so confused..."

"Me too, Encre... Me too." the vampire sighed, embracing the Painter.

S W A P V E R S E, X-10-X

Marvul was seething in pure rage.  
Not only did Reboot get Eraser on his side... But he also made him so soft that the idiot actually sacrificed his own life for him.

"You..." the skeleton growled, making the Guardian shrink under his gaze. Reboot seemed to be... Confused. As if he didn't know what just happened...

Marvul readjusted his grip on his spear, quickly stepping closer to his foe, swiftly piercing his throat with the blade, pulling it out with the same amount of precision.

Reboot could only manage a weak cough out, sputtering more blood, this time his, all over his clothes. He turned into dust as quickly as Eraser...  
If Eraser even was the Eraser he knew.

Marvul gripped his weapon tighter, ignoring the blood dripping from the blade and onto his boots.  
He'd sensed Eraser's aura was off...  
But only now did he realize that not only was it off, it was completely different- so was Reboot's.  
At least until the moment right after 'Eraser' dusted...

"... We're going back to the castle." he spoke to the remaining goons of his, opening up a portal for them, he himself turning away. He had a strange feeling that... Something had happened... But also didn't happen. "Something is... Wrong here..." he muttered to himself before walking through the portal, the swirling vortex closing behind him with a quiet pop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but  
> I have a feeling that I'm forgetting something


	5. Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Him

Ink woke up on the ground of the Doodle Sphere, a splitting headache raging through his skull. The skeleton sat up after a bit with a soft groan, the light all around him bothering him, possibly, for the first in his entire existence.  
He could've just forgotten, though.

The Artist just sat there for a while, trying to get used to the brightness of his so-called home. Once the headache subsided, in a way, he slowly got up, instinctively adjusting his vial sash and dusting himself off despite there not being any dust on the very bottom of the Doodle Sphere- a force of habit, he reckoned.

The habit did develop fairly recently, but it was still itself- a habit. So there was no denying that.

It was kind of amusing, as he thought about, a tiny smirk appearing on his skeletal face.   
Most of the time during their little traumatizing adventure, whenever he and Error were sent to a different story, he or both of them always somehow ended up on the ground, having to to dust themselves off afterwards.

Huh.  
He wondered if the stories were continued right where they were left off...  
Or maybe they were just created to humour whoever caused all that.  
Who knows.  
Definitely not him, though.  
Or maybe...  
Nah.

With a shrug, he discarded any of the lingering thoughts about the source of all that ruckus revolving around them and started pacing through the Doodle Sphere, heading in one specific direction, looking around, as if he was trying to find something, which he actually was.  
He was trying to find something.

Speaking about the Doodle Sphere, he didn't even notice that it had, at some point, switched to its... Default overlay and look.  
Convenient, as it'd make it easier for him to find what he was looking for.

As he did continue looking, he couldn't help it when his though strayed yet again. This time, to a certain glitching and grumpy fellow- Error. The moment it happened, a small frown appeared on his face.  
One that he couldn't explain the sudden appearance of.

He had a strange feeling that he... Did something. Something that made Error get mad at him. More than usual- more than the time before the entire Overwrite incident.

And he felt... Bad, in a way, for that. It was strange, to say the least. He felt bad for something he didn't even remember doing- he knew he had a shitty memory, but usually, when he forgot something, he didn't get any... Remorseful feelings afterwards.  
Not like he ever really could...  
He just couldn't recall any event and couldn't link any feelings to it- and that was it.

This time, though- he didn't remember whatever happened between them, but whatever it was, he knew he should feel bad for it. And yet, he didn't know why.

Ink shook his head frantically.  
He was getting off-topic. He was supposed to... Do something.  
Something that he totally didn't forget about because of getting distracted by his own train of thoughts.

The Artist slowly lifted his right hand, ready to deliver a powerful facepalm right to his forehead.  
But then he saw something that made him pause in the middle of the action.

X-Tale.

Oh.

That's what he was looking for.

With a sigh of relief, the skeleton let his hand fall back to his side and walked closer to the floating piece of paper, using his magic to pull it down into his awaiting hands.

He carefully traced his fingers over the edges of the paper, his browbones furrowing.  
He actually had no idea at what point in time he was in right now.

... How far back were they transported?

Did whoever, who did all that horrible stuff to him and Error, move them to the very beginning- to the time before the Truce and meeting Cross, or to the moment right before the proper X-Event?

Judging by his vials, which were emptied in a regular way, as if he took them regularly, he'd guess it was the first option.  
But... It was always good to check.

So, he let go of the piece of paper, which a few seconds later transformed into a floating bucket of purple paint.  
Ink took a deep breath, adjusting his scarf and vial sash, before jumping up, letting his form melt into paint.

The blob of paint shot itself into the paint bucket, the skeleton, still in his weird liquid form, crashing into the ground on the other side, the half-solid object rolling a small distance before morphing back into a skeleton and landing in a crouch.

Ink put on a fake-excited grin just in case, before getting up and dusting himself off, not looking at the surface he was standing on.  
If this was before the entire fiasco, he wanted to make sure everything mostly played out the same way.

He took a step forward, blinking in surprise, his grin faltering, when he heard something soft crunch underneath his sneaker.  
He immediately looked down, widening his eye sockets at the violet grass beneath his feet.

... This... This meant...  
They were-

"Sent back further than you'd initially thought, huh, Ink?" the Artist's thoughts were interrupted by a terrifyingly familiar voice, making him whirl around, pure shock dawning on his face at the sight of the person before him.

The taller skeleton merely chuckled at his expression.

"What? Thought I'd forget what happened?" X!Gaster spoke calmly with his arms crossed, leaning against the bark of the all too familiar tree.

"W-What? How-" Ink stuttered, taking a cautious step back.

"I don't know." the other shrugged. "And to answer your, most likely, next question- we're at the point when I was about to give you the vial, soo... What do you say?" a small glowing object materialized in between X!Gaster's fingertips, holding it out to the Artist already- who just stared at him in a mixture of fear and shock.

"Will you help me again, old friend?..."


	6. Another day, another mistake to make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deal.

Ink stared at the vial in the taller skeleton's hand in utter disbelief.  
He was sure that if he'd had a soul, it would be hammering out his chest right now.

He swallowed down the inky bile rising up his throat and chuckled awkwardly, trying to hide his fear.

"Uhh... H-hi..." he rubbed the back of his skull. "So... You really were involved in, uh..."

"In that entire fiasco? Unfortunately, yes. I do not remember who dragged me into this... And then pushed me away as if I was unimportant... But, yes. I remember everything that has happened." X!Gaster spoke calmly, his hand still extended, with the vial in-between his boney fingertips.

The Artist couldn't help the beads of sweat forming on the surface of his skull.

"Soo.. You know how that had ended, right?... Why..." he sputtered. "Why would you offer your soul to me again?!"

The taller simply laughed.

"Because if you won't accept it, I'd have to give it to someone else." he narrowed his eye sockets behind his glasses. "And you don't want that."

"That still doesn't answer my question!"

"Do you remember the last time I offered it to you? What I promised to give you in return of you guarding the vial for me?" X!Gaster looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

Ink held his chin in thought.  
... Did he remember?  
Why didn't he remember a crucial piece of information regarding the entire event?  
Curse his weird memory.

"Uhh.." the Artist blinked a couple of times. "... Frienship?..." he guessed unsurely.

"No." the taller shook his head in amusement. "I promised you something greater. Something that would allow you to feel for yourself. I promised to make you a soul." he explained patiently.

"Oh." Ink stated simply.  
So that's what he'd forgotten.  
He furrowed his brow bones at the memory suddenly rushing into his mind.

"Wasn't that just a trick though?..." he looked at X!Gaster suspiciously. "... A thing to manipulate me so that you could use me for later purposes?"

"Oh, Ink... I manipulate everyone." the taller stated solemnly.

The Artist just gritted his teeth together. The first time around he didn't care at all, but now...  
Now... He could at least tell what was right and what was wrong.  
And this...

"This is wrong, Gaster." he shook his head slowly. "I'm not helping you again." the short skeleton turned around and started walking away, trying to put a safe distance between him and the other so that he could teleport safely. But...

"You're not? Alright then... It's a shame that I'll have to do something to a perfectly good Destroyer..." X!Gaster grumbled out with a smirk on his face.

That made Ink instantly freeze in his tracks. He slowly turned around, his eyelights shifting between red target signs and orange ovals.

"What... Did you say?..." he uttered out slowly.

"Oh, you heard that perfectly, do not make me repeat myself, my friend..." the other chuckled, before finally getting up from his spot and making his way over to where the Protector stood, glaring daggers at him.

"I am not your friend..."

"Are you sure you want to say that, Ink?" X!Gaster stated calmly, leaning down a bit, so that he was at a similar height level that the other was. And then, suddenly, he grabbed the shorter skeleton's chin, making him gasp out in surprise. He held it firmly as he spoke, smiling softly even as Ink struggled against his grip.. "Listen, Ink. You know very well what I'm capable of doing. And you seem very attached to that Destroyer of yours, even without a soul to help you feel... So it's only fair I... Eliminate him... If you don't help me, like you've once promised... Because I take promises... Very... Seriously..."

Once he finished speaking, the Artist finally managed to muster up enough strength to push him away, stepping back, panting a bit.  
That was intense.

"What makes you so sure that I'd let you even get near him?!" Ink spat out. "I can just... Keep an eye out on him! I don't have anything else to do, since there's a Truce-"

"Is there, now?" X!Gaster raised a browbone, his arms tucked behind his back as he straightened up, now looking down at the other. "I highly doubt that, as I, somehow, know of your little... Disagreement... You two had not too long ago..." he chuckled.

Ink's blood froze.  
How...

"H-how... How do you know that?" he uttered out in shock, his eyelights dilating into tiny green pinpricks. He took a cautious step back.

"Oh, I didn't know, actually." the taller shrugged. "I just wanted to see if you're still so easy." he laughed softly, giving the other a smug wink. 

"You... Bastard..." Ink hissed out, his eyelights turning into a red target symbol and an orange oval.

"You flatter me, really... I am not finished speaking yet, though!" X!Gaster let out a care free chuckle.  
He had Ink wrapped around his finger and he knew it all too well.  
"I'm sure you know the drill. You help me, you get what you want..."

"... A soul?..." the Artist grumbled out, raising a brow bone. After last time, he honestly doubted everything that came out of the other's mouth.

"Yes, of course!" the taller exclaimed. "If you help me, I'll help you gain a soul, so that you can feel all... Funny... With your toy, or whatever..."

"Wh- he's not a toy!" Ink shouted, slightly offended.

"I said whatever..." X!Gaster scoffed. "But anyways. I'll only help you, if..."

"If I do everything like I did last time. Yeah. I get it." he sighed, averting his gaze.

The taller skeleton smiled.

"So, it's a deal, then?" he asked simply, holding out his hand for the other to shake. He didn't move though, so it would be the Artist having to move if he wanted to shake hands.

Ink couldn't help but glare at the hand. Somehow, he absolutely despised the one before him. And he didn't even take that much red, did he?...  
He sighed.

Having a soul again would be... Nice. He'd be able to feel it faintly pulse in his ribcage as he felt certain emotions, maybe it'd even help him make up for whatever he's done to make Error mad at him.  
Because he still hasn't remembered that.  
He curled his hands into fists for a brief moment, before letting out a sigh.

The Artist took a few steps forward, enough to be in reach of the other's hand.  
He relaxed his palms again before linking their hands in hand-shake.  
He glared.

"It's a deal."


	7. That's life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonderful life.

Ink made his way around the Doodle Sphere slowly, simply floating and letting the Anti-Gravity do its work as he moved in an unspecified direction, staring at the glowing vial in his hand.

He couldn't believe he was doing this again. But it wasn't like he had a choice. X!Gaster has always been... Quite smart.  
Or maybe Ink was just dumb.  
Either both or one of these conclusions was correct, so it didn't matter.

What made literally everything worse, is the fact that the old man remembered everything that has happened in that entire Story fiasco. And he somehow figured out the Guardian's weakness, which was Error.  
Though it didn't make any sense, at least to himself.

Ink tucked the glowing vial into a special strap in his bandolier and clutched his head, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.  
Everything was so confusing now that the Story event was over.  
Usually, he'd have to take his vials from time to time in order to feel in every situation. But now, it's changed.  
Any thoughts and actions regarding Error spurred up automatic responses inside his chest and head. Something that Ink recognized as the function of a soul, which he didn't have.

So why was it happening?  
There was no way his non-existent emotions have been tied to Error somehow.

If the Artist had hair, he would've ripped it all out at this point, he was clutching his skull so hard- it wouldn't be a surprise if it cracked under the sheer pressure.

Ink let himself float all over the Doodle Sphere, sometimes bumping into stray pages that represented certain AUs- it was certainly better than crashing back-first into a floating island, or a door that was placed on it. And he'd done so during the time since he'd accepted to guard the piece of X!Gaster's soul...

That he could break so easily...

The Guardian let go of his poor skull, pulling the vial out again, staring at it blankly.  
It would be quick- a single, strong squeeze of his hand would shatter both the vials and the soul piece in it...  
But X!Gaster would know.  
And he'd come for Error.  
It was already a bad thing that he was rushing the story of X!Tale.

If he came for Error, he'd have a certain advantage...  
He still had the other piece of the button.  
And he could use it on the Destroyer.  
And he would, without any hesitation.

Ink tucked the vial away once more, covering his face, sobs wracking his body.  
He didn't want to help the old man again.  
But he also didn't want anything happening to Error.  
He frantically scratched at his cheeks as he tried to stop the tears from flowing.

The Artist was so confused.  
Why was he able to feel, but only when it came to his counterpart.  
And why was he feeling so guilty?

Ink didn't even notice when he started screaming out in frustration, just begging for someone, anyone, to help him.

But nobody came.


	8. S W A P V E R S E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, in a different Multiverse...

Something was definitely wrong in the Multiverse.

And for once, Marvul wasn't the one causing whatever was happening.  
And he, quite honestly, hated it.  
He pondered every reason for that as he sat in his study in the Main Universe Castle.

Ever since Reboot and Eraser's death, universes have been fading left and right every single day.  
It was as if their absence threw an invisible scale off its hinges.

The situation was so dire that Marvul had to help his brother and his... Partner... Evacuate some of the less known AUs to the ones that were more near the center of the Multiverse.  
He was only doing it to preserve negativity though.

But the main Universe, the one that all of the Outcodes came from, wasn't doing so well either.  
One time, Xcellence reported to him and Halluciv, that while patrolling the edges of their home Universe, he could literally see bits of code flying up into the air.

Neither of them thought this was a good thing then...

Another tremor caused the stack of things on his desk fall over, some even falling onto the floor, snapping Marvul out of his thoughts.  
He groaned.

"This is fucking awful..." he grumbled under his breath as he leaned down to pick up his fallen belongings.

And then another tremor cause him to fall over as well, making the skeleton groan in pure, unadultered annoyance.

He just laid there motionlessly, shooting up into a sitting position as soon as he'd heard someone barge into his office- instantly recognizing their aura.  
He also bumped his head into the edge of his desk, which annoyed him even further.

"How many times did I tell you... To not barge into my office like that, Halluciv?!" he angrily yelled at his counterpart, growling softly as he glared at the other

"Eek!" the goop-covered skeleton exclaimed. "Brother! I'm so sorry! B-but there's something-"

"Do not call me that, you idiot!"

"Marvul, the universe is fucking collapsing, so stop your whining and come with us!" Xcellence suddenly barged in after Halluciv, not bothering with a soft approach that his partner attempted to do.

"WHAT?! Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" Marvul instantly got up, not even dusting himself off, and ran towars the exit, pulling the two other skeletons after him.

Once they stepped foot outside the castle, a stronger tremor hit, which nearly knocked them off of their feet.  
Halluciv clung to Xcellence and vice versa, while Marvul stubbornly stood his ground.

They didn't have to run that far, as they saw the edge of the world, which was closer than before, disintegrate right before their very eyes.

Halluciv gasped.

"No! We didn't make it!" he shouted, tears threatening to spill from his eye sockets. "Everyone is... Is..."

"Gone." Marvul uttered out. "I can't feel anything or anyone anymore."

He really couldn't.

They were the only ones left.

The world was disintegrating at a rapid rate, closing in on the surviving trio, soon enough forcing them all to stand back to back at different distances from each other, a small patch of land letting them still stand.

His brother went first.  
His cry for help went unnoticed by Marvul.  
Neither did he hear the scream that followed Halluciv's demise.

He fell to his knees as the small patch of land shrunk more and more.  
Golden tears spilled from his eye sockets as he smiled bitterly.  
It was all his fault.

And just like that...

Nobody was there.

Except the...  
Strange black substance that was revealed after everything had disintegrated.

It didn't seem to be doing anything at first.  
But then it moved, sloshing back and forth as it separated into smaller blobs of the substance.  
They started to move out into different directions.

What...

W̴̨̻͎̓̏̿h̵͕̱̤̎̈́̅a̸͕͔̓̌̐t̶̫̂̔̊ ̸͎͂w̶͉̑͂̔e̵̖͆͌͝r̵͚͘e̶͚̅̒͆ ̶͇̭̋̍͆t̶̼̃̂͠h̵̨̋̅ë̵̦̹̺́̑͛ȳ̸͙͋̕?

W̵h̸a̷t̸ ̴a̵r̸e̵ ̸t̷h̷e̸y̷ ̴l̷o̵o̶k̸i̷n̴g̵ ̵f̷o̷r̶?

...

...

...

C̶̢̧̢̨̢̢̛̗͚̲̣͍͕̪̺̣̹͓̯̹̩̜̺̣̤͓̩͔͔̫̠͇͔̰̼̦̙̮̰̘̭̻̻̺̲͖̣̯̦̹̜̜͛̎̇͒͊̈́͒͛̉̉̅̇̇͒̇̐̅́͑̐͌͌͌͂͂̇̊̾̌͗͂͂̑̽̄́̃͌̿̋͆͌̃̍͂̅͘̚͘̕͘̕̕̚͜͝͝͠͝͠ ̸̡̡͖͉͙̟̭͉͎̰̤̣͙̹̰̲̻͈̜̠͙͖̗̺͔̆̊͗̽̉̃͛̏͛͐̇̃̆̉̍͆̔͐͌̾͐̽́͋͒̋̄̆̿̋̅͒̍̿͆͒͗̈́̆̽̈͐̽̀̊̊̿̑͂̇̎̅͋̓͂́͆̽͆͒̍͂̎͘͘̚̚̕̚͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝Ŗ̷̛͙̟͓̠͈͇͈̝͚̫̬͍̙̖̦̲̪̤̞̻̬̰̼͇͚̮̥̆̋̅͑̓̓͗̈̂̋͊͌͆͗̎̆̈́̔́̂͐̓͛͋̽̇̈̔̌̀̈́̉̚̚̚̕͘̕͝͝͝͝͝ ̴̢̨̢̨̧̨̨̨̡̛̛̛͔̯͕̞̜̼̤͙̮͉̻͚̘͓͉̣̦̗̼̯̭̞̰̘̪͉̳͉̲̗̩̤̠̹̤̥̫͉̯͓̭̙̟̦̭͈͓͓̯̜͍͈̥̼͖̗̟̬̘̮̻̠̞̘̰͉͈̘̤̬͍̩̪̱̪̟̗̼̝̯̫̺̯̳͍̦͔̬̼͛̓̀̂̀̅̈̒̂̈̾̑̎͛̇̊͐̐̄̒͌̋̔́̍̆͌͛̂̈́̿͗̾͗̈̈̏̑̔̏͊̃̋̀̇̇̓̇̔̿̅̋̒͆͛̓͗͊̊̆͌̈́̿̏̾̔̓̂̄̊̒͆̾̓̂̈́̑̒̉̽͌̉̈́͆̎̉̌͊͗͐̆̅͗̑̐̕̚̕̚͘̚͘̕̕̚͜͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅȨ̷̨̧̨̢̢̡̢̧̛̛̛̠͖̮̣̯̮͕̗͙͖̪̫̬̝̰̘͈͕͚̱̲͖̜̩̤͖̣̗̞̼͚͔̦̟̱̤͙̮̖͓̩͔͉͇̦̰͖̖̪̟̰͇̠̳͓͖̼̞̙͉̯͎͔̲̳̪̺̼̹͓̩͔̙̫͚͎̯̮̺̫͕̞̦̺̗͕̥̻͕̮̤͓̳̟̘͈̘̩̻̬̜̹͕͙̅̂̓̓̓̉̏̇͑̾͊͂͛̈̍̀̽̋̎̓͊̓͋̉̿̍̒̍͆̒͂̋̉̅̃̽͋̆̽̅͗̑̋͗̃͂̾̋̑̎̇́͗́̾͊̎̑͂͊̋̃̄̌̂̈̒̈́̑͆͐̓̊̌̈́̔͂̒̆̒̏̽̏͂͗̋̑͛̐͒̽̿̌̔̿̍̇͘̕͘͘̕̚͜͜͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̨̢̡̢̧̨̡̢̨̼͖͖̳͚̖̫̹̭̳̲͓̻͍̠̣̹̘̝̜̞̩̙̤̩̹̠̠̣͕͎̬͎͓̖̠̩͍͎̩͎̲̥͔͔̹̻͚̱̜̀̓̌̌͆̓͛̉̋̂̍̅̔̑͑̂͗̈́͊͛͆̑̿̃͊̏̍̿͑͌̃̇̏͆̌̏̐̀͋̃̄̋̍̀͘̚̚͘̕͘͘̕̕͜͜͠͝͝ͅͅA̴̡̡̨̛̝̹̘̹̱͍̘̳̳͓̺̞̫̭̺̫̝̱̩̻͚͎̟̦͓̙̣̘͇͈͊͆̄̒̐̍͊͋͂͒̾̿̒̐̉̽͂͂͛̓̾̕͘̕͘ͅͅͅ ̶̡̢̨̨̡̡̧̡̡̧̨̨̧̧̢̛̛̛̘͚̱̩̬̳͈̞̠͈̠͉̲̱͉̘̗̦̖͎͙͔̱̣̖͖͎̘̩̭̳̣̜̦͎̱̬͚͙͖͈̜̦̺͙̖̗̤̭͍̭̘͖̗̳̟̗̠͚͕͙͉̣̜͙̲̱̭̻̘͈̗̙͖̫̻̥̣̮̮̱̘͚͓̩̯̰̮̖̰̥̹͖̦̲̻̜̬̖͔̥̠̲͌̈̃̍̄̍̊̾͂͂̇̓̋͗̎̊̎̃̏̓̀̅̓͂̑̓̈́̅̅̉͛̑̅̓́̇͐̏̃̉͌́̇͂̅̂̓̍̈͛̋̊͛̌̃̽̈́͛͛̈́͛̒̿̔͒̋͊̈́̈͑̐͆̽̓͂̔̓̀̐̏̽̃͒̿̽͌̓̈́̄̂́̉͒͒̎̓̆̒̔͆̍̏͐̓̆̃͂͗̑̄̕̕̕̚̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͠͠͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅT̵̡̢̧̧̡̨̛̘̠̲̺͔̹̟͓͓͉͇̹̳̖̮͈̝̺͕͍͚̙̞͙̤̥̩̟̞̬̠̠͖̰̖̺̱̹͉̥̥͎̊̓̂͋͛͂̏̎̓̒̑̅̽̎͂̋̎͗͌̑͐̓̀̆͋͒̅͜͜͝͝͠ ̸̢̢̧̧̢̗͍̬̮̯̞̭̬͇̞͍̬̣̫͚̫̮͎̰͚͔͓̟̗̞̼̼̭̘̯̜̙̜̜̞̲̺̙̤̝͙͔̜̺͇̼̜̠͖͇̖̘͓̯͓̙̩̟͎̙̭̠̺̠̄̂̎͌̀͊͊̂͒̓͊̒͋̆̍͒̓̆̄̈́̂̎̾̾̈́̎̿͋͛͛͆̋̆̀̉̾̓̎͋͊̏͐̌̇̒͗̿̓̑̅͌̽͑̈́̍̒͛͘̚̚͘̚̚͘͜͝͝ͅI̴̡̨̧̡̡̹̻̠̩͇̯̭͕͕͎͍̟͚̹͍̤̺̦̱̾̌̿͆̊̈́͐͋̈́̎̍̆̈̀̑̽͆̔͗͛̈̐̈̂͗͐̓̎̿̑͗̔̿͛͋͒̊͋̀̓̿̈́̓̑̎͊͛̊̑̅̈̓̏̌̀͊́̚͘̚̚͘̕̕͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠ ̷̨̧̡̧̛͍̜̹̱̗̘̹͍͓̱͈͍͇̜̗̲̰͙̝̲̼͕͔̮̖͍̝̘̩͈̘̪̝̪̬̘̰̼͙̖͍͓̠̘̟͍͖̱͓̩̦͇̯̝͚̙͈̮̘̺̗͓̥͓̝̬̣̪͖͈͈̫̰̣͍̰͔̘̪͎̰͕̜̣͚̯͍͗̑̈́̈́͑̒́̊̓͌̃́́͋̂̆̆̏̿͗̔̑̂̃̇̓̾̕̚͜͜͜͝͝V̵̧̡̡̧̢̡̡̧̝̹̙̜͖͚͓̳̦̻̯̩͇̩̠͇̦͈͖̤̟̰̜̻̗͔̤̳̻͚͍̯̗̤̰̰̮̤͕̹͉̘͙̫͙̝͖̼̘͈̻͇̝̮̮̠̳̮̳̝̭͖̲̝̫̼̙̤̘͖̤͋͌̋͑̿̒͗̌͑̾̈̇̊̄̽̅̍̾̔̉̈̃͆̃͆̾͑͛̑͊́͌̐̌͋̉̈̓̈͑͑̓̃͐͛̋̊͋̍̑̉̐̔̐̇͌͑͌̋͋̎͆͗́̊̿̏̚̕͘̕͘̕͘͘͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠ͅ ̵̡̛̛͇͇̱̥̦̱̪̝̳̦͈̤͍̺̦̪̜̂͌̌͒͂̄͐̀̐̽͋̒̓̽̍͆͌̊̈̿̾̆̑̄́̌̈́̄͒͗̈́͒̾͑̅͗̍̋͗̏̋̉̆̄̔̀̉̀̅̍̊̆̋͆̄̑̌̌̏͊͛̄̿̋͋̊̋̋̌͛̈́͒́͌̒̈́̓̊̃͌̒̑̄̏̐̐͊͒̓̾̏͆̌̿̏̆͆̉͒͒̃͊̓͐͊̽̎͑͗́̽̕̚̕̚̚̕̚̕̕͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͝Į̷̢̨̢̛̝̱̙̻͓̖̗̱̟̠̙͚̜̗̰̹̱͉̯̙̱̭͈͔̻̞͎͓͖̻͚̳̩͇̼̬̼͉̠̦͍̻͚̝͖͖̣̯̑̈́̌̿̀͂̊̐͗̀͛̑̇͂͒̅̽͗͊̽̎̌͗̐͆̉͗̾̇̾̈́͛͗̀̇́̽̑̉͘̕͜ͅͅͅͅ ̴̨̧̨̧̡̢̧̢̛̛̛̣̤̱̼͓͍̼̺̞̯̣̦̮̮̰̤̱͖̫̖̘̹͖̰̻̼̥͇̻̥̙̰̩̪̙̳͎̞̝̠̞̠͕͓̜͕̰̬͔͙̙̩̣͍͉̠̣̯̦̰̦͖̲͎̰͖͚͖̜̜̬̮͇̺̣͚̞͚̘̲͚̜̈́͂̉̊̈́̓̿̋̄͌̃͂̅̇̒̆̈́̀̅̔̽̓͋̈́͗̓̓̅͗̾̿̈́̆̽̂̉̐̃̓̈́̏͒̄̃̂͊̿͗̎̇̾͛̔̓̈̅͗͗̓͋͒̾̿̓͂̓̉̀͒̾͛̓͂̇̃̿͌̿͑̇̈́̈́̓̈̋̃͊͗̓̃͗͊̂̋̆͂͛͋̂̏̓̚̚̚͘̚̕̕̚͜͜͝͝͠͝Ţ̸̧̢̡̛̛̛̛͖̼̖̟͇̞̟̗̟̤̙̲̟̬̜̻̙̥͚̪̳̱̞͙̲̞̻̦̱̘͔͇͖̮̱̞̤̩̼̝̩͑̿̅̃̑̌̿͆̆̊͒͗̓̇̈̐̎͆̄̎̂̓̒͗̒͂̓̌̂̓͛̾̌̾͊̂̏̍̆̽̍̍̂̏̊͗̍̾̎̒͌̈́̒̄̏̈̑͋́͛͘̕̚̕̚̕͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅ ̵̢̨̢̡̡̨̨̧̡̲̬̭͎̻͕̠̤̣̻̝̯̼̭̼͉̮̱͍̞͍̻̥̪̹͇̻̟͉̘̳̝͙̪̺̺̜̼̦͓̻̗̗͉̻̩͕̱̱̞̬̜͓̼̲̝͇͙̟̲̺͔̰͖̻̭̥̝͉̯͇̮̼̭̞͖̲̜̟̩̹̪̞̰̟̟̝̯̲̣͔͙̬̻̹̠̙̮̰̮̮̖̭̰̙͗̒̈̇̑̉̎̇̽̔̉̀͌̓̂̾̔̈̓͛̑͗́̑̽͆͂̓͋̌̔̑̋͂̊̈̓́̓̋͑̊̈̒̽̊͛̅͒̿͒̅͋̋͊͊̑͂͛̋̃̓̉͊́̀͘͘͜͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It says Creativity, before you ask


	9. Screaming Little Bird in a Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little bird is trapped in a cage.  
> All he can do is scream.

Error sat on his beanbag, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the firm surface that was pushed out because of his weight.

He was bored, and therefore, frustrated.  
He was itching to get his hands on something, anything.  
And yet, despite trying knitting, crosshatching, sewing, anything that had to with his hands- he couldn't stop the itch he felt in them.

So instead, he'd decided to watch Undernovela, in hopes of his favorite AU to watch being able to distract him from the annoying feeling in his hands.  
It didn't seem to work, as he, as previously stated- kept on drumming his fingers on whatever they landed on.

He squinted at the glitching portal that let him watch the spanish drama, tuning out the sound of the foreign language as he tried to think of anything but the itch in his fingers.  
The voices inside his head had been strangely quiet ever since the whole ordeal regarding the constant overwriting of the Multiverse. Sometimes, it was as if someone had merely blocked the voices out of his mind, because he could hear a muffled voice from time to time.

Not that he minded finally being freed from the constant pestering of the Creators, but... Maybe they'd know what would help him, since they all seemed to be so all-knowing about his entire miserable existence.

"UgH, dO i sErIoUSLy mIsS tHesE asSes?..." he grumbled out loud to himself, probably out of habit.   
He had to admit though, despite how... Traumatic his experience with the voices was, they had proved a few times that they could be helpful.  
But at the moment, it didn't really seem like they wanted to be helpful. Or talkative.  
It was just... Quiet.  
And Error had only just realized how accustomed he'd grown to the constant buzzing of conversations between the Creators at the back of his head.

He shook his skull wildly, growling softly as he let himself sink even further into his beanbag, the filling letting out a crunchy noise that was both soothing and unnerving to him.

He needed.  
Something.  
To do.

The Destroyer stood up with the soft crunch of his bean bag following his action and proceeded to aggressively swipe through the air, closing the window to Undernovela in the process.

He started pacing back and forth immediately, his hands fidgeting by his sides as he took each hard footstep.  
If it were possible, then Error could technically stomp a hole through the Antivoid's floor.  
But the place didn't work like that.  
From what the glitch knew, at least- he had yet to blast a hole through the floor, wall or the ceiling in the place. Not sure if he even could, though.

Error growled before practically whining as he threw his arms up in frustration.

"WhaT tHE acTuAL fUCK aM I sUpPosED to dO, hUH? Is ThIs sOmE sOrt of fuckIng joke TO yOu fUCkers?! BeCAuse I, suRE aS HeLl, ain'T lAuGhIng!" he pointed up at the ceiling. "AnD neiThEr are YOu!"

He was met with silence.  
Not even a single muffled response.  
It was just quiet.  
Too quiet.  
He hated it.

"SAY SOMETHING!" he screamed out into the nothingness above his head, hating every second that had passed without any reply. "I'm tELlInG yOU, sAy sOmEtHING, OR elSe!" he threatened, his glitching causing his voice to be barely understandable to anybody besides himself.

And he didn't get a reply either.  
It was silent. Like a grave. Suffocating him with the lack of noise, the only thing that he could hear being the buzzing of his glitches and his own hard breathing.

And he waited.  
And waited.  
And waited.

And he screamed.  
And screamed.  
And screamed.

His voice was being massacred by his own person, each agonizing moment causing his screaming to become louder, more desperate.  
He expected a reply from anyone that could hear him.  
But nobody did.

And nobody came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just noticed how darker this is already than half of what I was trying, and failing, to do in the previous story


	10. Not This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd made a decision.

Ink blankly stared at the floating piece of paper before him. It glew brightly with its bright purple colour, which seemed to follow a pulsing rhytm in terms of the intensity of the glow.

The rest of the Doodle Sphere that was surrounding him, had taken up the appearance of the usual, boring floating papers- at least, it was boring, compared to the times when it took the appearance of a brilliant place with various multiple floating islands with different doors and significant symbols from certain AUsnon each of them.  
But no matter what form the Doodle Sphere took, X!Tale always stayed the same, plain, glowing piece of paper that it was when it first came to be.

Even despite the fact that the entire Multiverse was reset to the time before the events of X!Tale and such, it was always the same. Just a piece of paper with a madman for its owner.

Now that Ink thought about the events that would take place in X!Tale, he'd guess that it'd be around the time when Cross and Chara got stuck in one body.  
But he hadn't sensed anything similar to what he had the first time around, so it was probably very close to happening, but hasn't yet at the very moment.

The way he was floating through the Doodle Sphere right now, with one of his drawing tools in his hand as he absentmindedly tapped at the lack of sketch on the paper in his hand, was quite... Deja vu inducing...

And the he felt it.

He instantly dropped anything that he was holding, carelessly letting the items just fall to the very bottom of his home.

Cross had just made an appearance in the now empty world of X!Tale.

If he had a soul, it would be racing at the moment. It sure felt like something was hammering out of his chest though.  
He floated closer to the piece of paper that was X!Tale and was about to touch it when...

He realized something.  
He'd never had to interact with Cross.  
Not even before the Multiversal ordeal with overwriting.  
He just... Did it before because he was curious.  
But now he wasn't, his curiosity sated and... He was actually afraid of doing the same thing again.

What if the lack of contact with his former friend made it much easier to help X!Gaster out with the X!Event?...

The Artist stared at the outstretched hand before him, only to realize that it belonged to himself.  
He pulled it back instantly, recoiling from X!Tale.

If he was going to make the same mistake of joining X!Gaster again, then why let himself make another one?  
He'd betrayed Cross before.  
And that was what caused him to cease his vial usage.

He did not enjoy that, honestly.

Ink absentmindedly reached to cup one of the vials- the one X!Gaster gave him.  
He just needed to wait for the right moment when Error would find out about Cross and try to take his soul...

But that meant he'd actually have to... Hint it to him.  
He wasn't going to outright tell him...  
But he had to do something, otherwise X!Gaster would not be pleased.

The Protector let himself float further away from the glowing piece of paper, a sad expression adorning his face.

"I'm sorry, C, but... Not this time." he sighed, a resigned tone in his voice as he spoke. He whipped his giant paintbrush from his back, ready to create a portal to find Error- he just hoped the other hadn't locked him out.

He let some black paint form on the tip of his brush as he concentrated on what he'd thought the other skeleton's home's coordinates were.  
Then, he swiped Broomy through the air, letting the magic settle into a shifting blob of a portal.

He sighed as he looked at his paintbrush.

"Let's go, Broomy. Time to face what we've been putting off for more than anything..." he murmured before he lunged into the swirling, floating pool of ink, which evaporated a few seconds after he'd disappeared into it.

It was time for the inevitable to happen.  
Ink just wasn't sure what WOULD happen.


	11. It's Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ao3 people get this earlier than Wattpad people because i am like that

It has been... A while, since Error's initial outburst at the, apparently, absent Creators.  
At this very moment, he was merely knitting something without a certain plan in mind.

Compared to what happened right after his outburst, he was doing... Peachy.

He'd screamed his voice raw for a few hours before he passed out on the Antivoid floor, waking up to a headache, heavy glitching and a practically non-existent voice.

He'd definitely been doing better though.  
His voice healed quite quickly, though it was hard to tell in a place where time was a mere construct of one's mind. It could've taken a day, two, but it also could've taken weeks or even more than that.

The itch in his fingers never went away though, but he'd refused to move an inch away from his home, not doing anything about the annoying feeling, which was still a nuisance, but one that he'd learned to ignore with time.  
How much time? Yet again- only the Creators could tell, and they were gone, so he had no way of telling.

He didn't notice himself starting to mumble brief insults regarding the Creators as he aggressively knitted something random.  
He'd finished his work before he even knew it, instantly scowling at it.

It was another. Fucking. Scarf.  
Just like the one he already wore.

He bundled up the wretched piece of clothing with a growl and tossed it in a random direction, instantly gathering some more of his strings from the tearmarks on his cheeks, getting ready to start on another project to keep himself busy.

"Wow, I have just arrived and I'm already getting stuff thrown at me? Wow, Error, you're really getting better at this reflex thing!"

Error's pupils turned into tiny pinpricks at that voice.  
He rapidly turned in the voice's direction.  
And he saw him.  
Ink.

He looked the same as always. Stupid outfit. Stupid brush. Stupid vials. Stupid... Shit-eating grin...  
The plastic, fake... Grin.

His hands dropped everything he was holding as he latched the previously gathered strings onto his finger tips, standing up quickly. The itch in them was back, stronger than before.

"WhAT the fUcK aRe yOu DoInG hErE, yOu rAiNbOw aSShOLe?" he hissed out, a slight twitch to one of his eyes.

"Error, I'm just here to talk! We both know something happened, you got mad for it... But..."

"YES I GOT FUCKING MAD!" the Destroyer yelled, glitches sizzling across his entire form. "NeItHEr oF uS REmEmbEr whY, bUt i KnOw tHat I aLwAYs havE a ReAson WhY I Do cErTain thiNgs!"

"I know, I know! But, hear me out!-"

"TherE IS nOthING TO TaLK abOUT!" Error interrupted the other, sending an array of strings at him.

The Artist barely side-stepped the attack, having to dodge a couple more slashes before he could speak again.

"Well, then! How about we do this the old fashioned way?!" he shouted at the skeleton before him, gripping his paintbrush tightly as his eyelights rapidly flickered between various shapes, never staying on the same ones for long.  
He hoped that Error would catch the bait. The fight would give him an excuse to drop more hints at Cross reappearing in the Multiverse.

The Destroyer was actually caught off-guard by the other's words. Ink never initiated fights between them- he'd only accept the challenges coming from himself and usually stayed on the defensive...

But the Artist actually wanted to fight, apparently and finally challenged HIM instead of the other way around.

His fingers twitched in anticipation and he finally realized what he'd needed all this time.

A wicked grin spread out across his face as he opened his arms, as if he was getting ready to embrace the challenge.  
Error actually looked... Excited, if not a little on the insane side.

"Well, thEn..." he copied Ink's words from the beginning of his previous statement with a shit-eating grin. "WhAt aRE yOu WaiTiNg fOr, Artist?" he chuckled darkly, his strings just hanging off of his face.

Ink squinted at him, but smiled nonetheless.  
Honestly...  
He couldn't help but admit that he was a tiny bit excited as well. The Destroyer was a good opponent and their fights never got boring, at least to him, and that WAS coming from a soulless creature, who was able to get bored in a matter of seconds.

"We should move it somewhere else, you know?" he chuckled, also deciding to play the imitating game. "Don't wanna... Free some of your souls during our fight." he leaned on his brush as he spoke softly, pointing towards the ceiling, where the captured souls of various humans were hung.

Error just stared at him for a while before bursting out laughing.

The Artist was caught off guard with that.  
Did... He screw up? Was the other about to kick him out and lock the Antivoid forever for him?  
His thoughts ran wild, until the Destroyer suddenly stopped laughing.

He looked at his face, seeing that the other seemed to be raising a brow bone at him.  
He noticed him raise his hand, fingers poised to a snap.

Error suddenly grinned like a maniac and time, somehow, seemed to slow.

"You'Re rIghT, fOr oNce, sQuiD bRain." a snap resounded through the Antivoid, the Artist suddenly hearing the crackling of glitches behind him. He turned around and saw... A portal. The other made a portal.

He twisted back around to look at his opponent.  
Time seemed to shift again.

Silence.

"LeT'S dAncE, sQuiD." 

And suddenly, the wind was getting knocked out of his ribs as he was suddenly punched back with an unknown object and through the portal.  
He landed in a thick pile of snow, quickly spinning around, only to see Error jump right after him, his portal closing right behind him with a soft pop. He didn't realize he was grinning until the other pointed it out.

"StoP gRiNnIng, AssHOLe, anD gEt tHe fUck UP!" 

Ink insantly got up, quickly shaking snow out of his skull through his eye sockets, which sent a shiver through both of the skeletons' spines.  
Snow in their skulls was... Never pleasant. And both have experienced that countless of times.

As soon as the Artist shook the snow out, he instantly formed some purple paint on the tip of his brush, while the Destroyer summoned and charged his blasters up.

Ink took off running in his direction before the massive skulls had the chance to charge up to full capacity, so Error softly cursed under his breath.

He just let the slightly weaker blasts tear open the blasters' jaws, quickly aiming them more precisely at his sprinting opponent.

His eye sockets widened as soon as Ink sealed the blasters' jaws shut with purple paint, using one of the skulls to his advantage and leaped off of it, the distance between them closing at a rapid rate.

Error quickly tightened some strings around his fingers and shooting them towards a thick tree branch to his right.

He'd pulled himself up into the tree just in time to avoid a slash of, this time, red paint.  
He hadn't even had the chance to notice when the Artist had changed the colour of his paint!

"Already running, Error?" Ink called up to him from the very spot where he, himself, stood mere seconds ago.

He couldn't help but, rather childishly, stick two of his tongues out at his opponent.

"ThiS wAs a MeRe dOdGe, ArTist!" the Destroyer exclaimed loudly, grinning widely. "I KnoW whAt REd pAinT dOes, I sURe as HeLL aIn'T letTinG thAt nEar Me, sQuiD brAin!"

The Artist merely laughed at his response.  
He mimicked his opponent's mad grin and tilted his head to the side.

"Then I guess I'm gonna have to try a little bit harder than THAT, HUH?!" he cackled as he swiped through the air a couple of times, this time with regular paint.

The paint formed into a simple platform that he stepped onto.  
He held out his hand, lifting it slightly, the surface he stood on following the movement, continuing to lift the Artist upwards, until he dropped his hand suddenly, making the platform cease its movements.

He was now on the same level as Error, if not a bit higher than him. The Destroyer hadn't moved from his spot, still standing on on one of the branches, just staring at him, his clothes dramatically swaying in the wind.

"It's over, Error! I have the high ground!" the Artist yelled, pointing his brush at the other.

The Destroyer shook his head as he glared at him.

"YoU UndEreStimAte mY PowEr!" he yelled right back at him, and Ink finally noticed the strings attached to the branch nearest to him, yet a bit higher than his head was.

He heard his opponent scream as he swung his way to him, the Destroyer readying several bone attacks that flew right next to him, right at Ink.

They were about to collide when a sudden tremor caught both of them off-guard, which got Error distracted and just made him land on the platform next to the Artist, who looked just as surprised as he was.

"Wait, wha-" Ink's words were cut off by another tremor which was literally so strong that cause even the tree tops shake, the platform somehow reacting by swaying slightly as well.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!" the two yelled at each other, only to recoil as they heard that they had asked the exact same thing.

Ink was about to open his mouth to speak, when he felt a sharp pain in his chest.  
Something was wrong with an AU.  
And it just happened to be the one they were in.


End file.
